


I don't do boyfriends

by Kolaflor



Category: Football RPF, How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attorneys, Based on a TV show, Crossover, HTGAWM - Freeform, Law School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kolaflor/pseuds/Kolaflor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is basically all Connor/Oliver scenes re-written in an alternative universe where Giroud is Connor and Mesut is Oliver</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pilot

He had been dragged to the bar for a drink; being the most profitable department of the company clearly deserved a night out, and even with the surprising news of the trial, keeping the company's profile under the pressure was what gave them the recognizement.

What Mesut couldn't explain was how he ended up fumbling with his pockets as the most handsome guy he'd ever seen was giving him puppy eyes as they talked non sense. Mesut could feel and almost see from the corner of his eye how his friends were giggling at him from afar; he felt a confident hand on his waist as Olivier ( _was that his name? He had introduced himself to Mesut, but he was too shocked to actually pay attention to it_ ) spun around handing him a new drink.

“Two _Boulevardier_ , I managed for the bartender to add an extra cherry to it…” he said with a thick french accent and a smirk, giving Mesut a reddish short glass. Olivier took a glance to where he was looking before and then staring back at him “...your friends seem to want a show, so you say the word and we can start making out.” he smirked again.

“Wh-no, n-no...don’t worry about them,” he hurried feeling his face going the same color as his untouched drink. “It’s just-...that I don’t talk to guys in bars that often.”

“Let me guess, you work for the advertising agency upstairs?” Olivier asked taking a sip from his glass.

“Is it that obvious?” Mesut mumbled fumbling with his jacket with his hand and trying to unwrinkle it.

“I work on the bank across the street, and the only hot guys who come around here are from your agency, so…” he said tilting his head cockily.

Mesut had lost the ability to keep a straight face, his permanent smile was probably matching his neurotic heartbeat at the moment.

“Hot?” he genuinely asked in desbelievance, there was no way someone as Olivier, as anyone, in fact, would pin him as hot. The man simply stared at him as he took another sip from his drink. “Wow, I mean, I don’t work on the cool side of the company, if that’s what you're thinking,” he was unable to hold his gaze any longer. “I'm at IT.”

“IT?” Mesut wasn't looking at him, but he could imagine the disappointment in his face at that point. “No, I think IT is very cool.”

He laughed nervously taking a big gulp of his drink under Olivier’s gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” the handsome man said closing the space between them to the point where Mesut could see the tiny freckles on top of his nose.

“Sure.” he nodded.

“Did you know that secretary who tried to kill her boss with an aspirin?” he asked casually. _Oh, so that was it all about_.

“The legal department warned us not to talk about that.” he said taking a step back.

“Right,” Olivier smiled politely taking his cell phone out of his pocket and checking the time in it. “...sorry I asked.”

Mesut drifted his gaze back to his glass; of course, there was no way someone would approach him like that in a bar if it wasn't to try and take information out of him; he didn't even know why had he been so stupid to attend to a party at a bar. He looked up again to find the man glancing lustfully at someone on their left; a handsome guy wearing a plaid.

Fuck it, he thought.

“Okay, uh...but no one can know I told you this.”

\------

“I-I thought...all you wanted for me were those e-mails…” Mesut grunted between kisses as Olivier clumsily stood up from his knees pulling open Mesut's dress shirt and tumbling both of them to the bed.

“I did.” he said stealing another kiss from him. “But I also want this; turn over.” And he did, feeling Olivier’s lingering kisses go down his back.


	2. It's All Her Fault

They were stuck on the case, again, after the fiasco with the wrong police officer being put in the report, they had certain advance on the defense and had discredited the murder weapon, but the rest could be easily tumbled down at any minute.

“After we get the knife thrown out, we attack the motive.” Arsene said sharply looking around the living room of the house, where they spent more time than at their own places. “Any thoughts?”

“I had one,” Per intervened with a giant Starbucks cup on his hand and a file over his legs. “Prosecution is going to use the victim’s best friend to say she wanted to divorce Mourinho (their client), which would have eliminated his inheritance per the prenup agreement, and thereby, giving him a motive to kill.” he looked around searching for some sort of approval. Olivier’s brain started working, he knew where this was headed. “I looked into discrediting the friend, but couldn't find anything just yet.”

“I can make that happen!” he interrupted, he had been wanting to meet up again with the IT guy from the other night, there was something about him he couldn't shake off. “Why don't I help?” he offered already standing up and retrieving his car keys.

\-------

“You know, usually I require dinner before I agree to illegally hack into a rich old man’s computer.” Mesut mumbled as his fingers tapped quickly on his laptop in front of him, his eyes glued to the binary codes in front of it over a green and black background full of files.

“Wednesday…” Olivier mumbled cheekily putting his hands over the chair and leaning over him from behind.

“What?” the man asked plainly without stopping his task.

“Dinner. You and me.” Mesut stopped half turning around to look at him. “And the faster you type, the faster you get your reward.” The man smiled shily before turning around and pressing enter; pictures of a blond man appeared on the screen.

_Bingo._

\------------

 _“...that doesn't sound like a couple about to divorce to me.”_  Arsene spoke in front of the jury making everyone start mumbling. That was it, the balance was on their side again thanks to him.

“How the hell do you find this crap?” Per leaned towards him on the seat. Olivier could only smile.

“You'll never know.”

\----------

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” Olivier sighed on the phone; he was sitting on the house surrounded by papers and with the biggest headache possible, their client was a liar, he was probably guilty and his lies were dragging everyone down. “My boss called us into work last minute,” that’s what he hated the most about his degree, not having to support the losing side, but last minute calls or testimonies that changed everything. “I’ll take you to dinner this weekend instead…-” he got no answer. “Hello? Mesut?”

Shit.

“Boyfriend drama?” Per asked mockingly. He still wasn't over the fact that Olivier had won the immunity trophy on the last case, he wanted it for himself, he wanted to be the best.

“I don't do boyfriends.” he replied before turning around back to his laptop to check once again the testimonies.

“Wait, you're gay?” Alexis asked, clearly confused, from the other side of the room. Olivier frowned, he wasn't in the mood for it, for any of it.

\-------

Someone knocked the door, Mesut sighed, it hadn’t been a good day, he was already on his pajamas and in the middle of a _Criminal Minds_ episode he hadn't seen before. He stood up and opened it quickly. Olivier was there, smirking at him, in a suit that clearly said he was there directly after work. Mesut was still mad at him, he thought he had left it pretty clear after hanging up on him the day before.

“No, I don't care what your boss needs.”

“I'm not here for work. I'm here for dinner.” he said lifting a bag that smelled a lot like chinese food. It made him wrinkle his nose.

“You really think I'm that desperate?” Mesut asked with a cynical smile, he was hurt. “That you can buy me some take-out and bat your eyes and I'll get down on my knees like some sad twink?” he frowned sarcastically.

Olivier let go a laugh.

“You're too old to be a twink…”

 _That was it_ , he thought before slamming the door on his face. He was done, yes, Olivier was incredibly good looking and funny, but Mesut wasn't there to please him whenever the man decided to appear at his door at random hours of the night; on the other side, the man was really, really good looking. He took a second to clear his mind before opening the door again. Olivier was still there, he had turned around and started moving away before the door swung open.

“Ok,” Mesut said. “...but tonight I do you.” Olivier stilled on the spot, but after a second he smiled closing the space between them and giving him a hungry kiss.

As they moved around, the food was quickly forgotten somewhere in the living room.


	3. Smile, or go to jail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! This chapter didn't have much Giroud/Özil material if none at all, but I tried to manage with what we had at the episode, we never know what might happen next.  
> Also, I felt the need to change some minor characters after this week's episode, nothing big but mostly characters that had been barely named.

Olivier wasn’t the kind of person who liked to come unprepared to work; that morning Arsene had called them to a brief meeting at the House before heading to jail and bail out someone. Olivier sat taking mental notes on what to do to take advantage of the situation. When he had downed half his coffee, he realised that Per wasn’t anywhere around, which was weird since the man was clearly looking forward to snatch the immunity statue off his hands.

“Ohh, so this is the famous boyfriend, huh, Per?” Alexis exclaimed right at the House’s door blocking the exit; Olivier sighed in annoyance as he was obliged to listen.

“This is my boyfriend: Arne Friedrich; Arne, these are Alexis, Lukas, Santo-.” Per announced as they started walking clumsily outside. Olivier knew that name. _Oh my god._

“Santi,” he corrected Per with annoyance; it wasn’t a secret that they didn’t like each other much.

“Arne-freaking-Friedrich!” he exclaimed finally walking outside; he couldn’t help but smile at how the man didn’t seem to age at all.

“Olivier Giroud?” Arne smiled widely as he laughed; Olivier couldn’t help but close the space between them pulling him into a hug. “Oh my god, man.”

“You two know each other?” Per asked with a polite smile.

“Yeah, we went to boarding school together,” Arne exclaimed clearly amused by running into Oliver. “So good to see you, man.”

There was something about Per’s face, about his personality that Olivier couldn’t help but feel the need to mess with him mad whenever he could, and this was his chance.

“So, this is your boyfriend…” he mumbled.

“Yep,”

Olivier leaned towards Per whispering.

“I guess we’ve actually shared more than clients.” he smirked before walking towards his car and leaving Per with a questioning look.

\-----

“Hey,” Lukas approached him at the police station, that was probably the first time they had crossed words that didn’t require an assignment. He turned around. “...that IT guy you know…” of course he knew about Mesut by now, there was no other way Olivier could get that kind of information without people noticing. “You think he’d be able to unlock a phone?”

“Are you becoming a hacker, Waitlist?” he still didn’t know how the man got the job, everyone clearly showed some insight and cleverness, but Lukas and Santi basically stood next to everyone and pathetically tried to collaborate with cases.

“I-...I have a friend who forgot his pass code.” Lukas stammered.

“Really?” he mocked him. “You have a friend?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the mention of Mesut, he was becoming fond of the guy. But before Lukas could reply with something mildly clever, they got interrupted by a police officer finally attending them.

“Look who’s here, professor Wenger,” the man said. “What can I do for you?”

“You have a client of mine in lockup,” Arsene said pulling out a paper from his briefcase. “Ben Gant.”

“Sex-in-a-park-dude?” the man asked. “Yeah, he’s here.”

“That’s it?” Alexis mumbled. “Our hot new case is some rent boy in a park?”

“He’s a friend of a friend,” Theo scolded him. “not every case is a serial killer. If you want to be professor Wenger one day, you gotta build a client base from the ground up.” he leaned closer narrowing his eyes. “So shut up and learn.”

Moments later, a middle aged good-looking man walked towards them accompanied by an officer.

“Wow, that’s not a rent boy, that’s a dad.”

“Genius…” Olivier mumbled rolling his eyes.

“Mr. Gant, I’m Arsene Wenger,-”

“Oh, thanks God,” he exclaimed walking outside the security door. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you,” he continued as they all walked towards the exit. “I didn’t know what to do, I’ve never needed a lawyer before. I’m so grateful…”

\----

The long nap Olivier had been wanting to take since that morning had been dismissed the minute they walked outside the police office and three Hummers crowded them; happened to be that their client Ben Gant wasn’t other than a fugitive wanted for felony murder accused of being part of a bombing occurred in 1994, his name wasn’t Ben of course, it was Miroslav Klose.

“Perfect dad turned out to be bomb-dad” Alexis said as they all looked at Klose through the glass of the interrogation room. “I freaking love this job.”

“Shh! His kids are right there.” Santi shushed him as Thierry tried to talk to Klose’s sons, some twins of about ten years old.

“It makes you wonder what secrets Arne might be keeping from you, right?” Olivier teased Per who was standing next to him.” He couldn’t help but smile at his poorly hidden distress.

\----

“Make sure the boys are in court.” Arsene told Tomáš as they all entered the house. “that’s gold for the jury. When’s the bail hearing?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Theo answered immediately.

“Forensic’s expert?”

“On his way.” Thierry announced.

“What can she say to help? Mr. Klose’s fingerprints are on the bomb fragment,” Per asked walking behind professor Wenger; Olivier hated it and his head was killing him, but he agreed with Per.

“Exactly. There’s no way to win this.” he said throwing his bag over a chair.

“You just lost the trophy, Mr. Giroud.” Arsene scolded him.

“What? You said we could hand it in whenever we wanted.” If he was feeling like shit before, now it seemed like his head was going to explode.

“That’s before you doubted my abilities.”

“I’m just saying that we have no defense.” he excused himself.

“Who says I don’t have one?” Arsene answered before walking into his private office.

_Shit._

Everything went even worse when he saw Per trying to hide a satisfied smile as he walked past him.

\----

 _Leave the law for the lawyers, Thierry_ , was a phrase that had left everyone in the office at their spot; since they started the job, everyone assumed that Thierry Henry was also a lawyer.

“If Thierry isn’t a lawyer, what is he? Arsene’s bodyguard?” Alexis asked as they all pretended to examine the court papers once again. Olivier’s head was still pounding, and the image of Per smiling at his suffering was haunting him more than he’d wanted it to, he couldn’t let him mess with his head.

“Whatever he is, I’m glad there’s some eye-candy around here,” he said taking a seat next to Santi.

“What about me? I’m not eye-candy enough?” Alexis joked.

“Arne _is_ eye-candy,” he let slip while looking at Per who quickly rose up his head from the papers in front of him and glanced at Olivier. “You’re meatloaf.” he told Alexis.

“Meatloaf is about to get your trophy,” Alexis mocked him. It was true, Alexis could be a douche, but he was ahead of everyone in this case, he had even offered to help Thierry with some awful paperwork no one wanted to do.

“ _My_ trophy” Per interrupted Alexis as he looked directly at Oliver. “and I never believed he was a lawyer.”

“Why is that for?” Santi asked.

“Have you heard him speak? And that accent…” Per wrinkled his nose.

“Maybe it’s because you’re an elitist asshole.” Santi exclaimed out of the blue.

“Why? Is it because you have a crush on him?”

“I don’t-” Santi blushed.

“You totally do.” Olivier intervened, since the beginning he had spotted Santi staring at Thierry whenever he could.

\----

Law review parties were apparently a thing, people gathered at a bar and talked about everything _or anything_ about law, got to met fellow students and have a good time; of course everyone was there, also Arne. Olivier didn’t want anything with Arne, they had something in the past and it was over, but he couldn’t help but feel better everytime he saw Per’s mortified face as they crossed words.

They had been catching up at the bar when Per arrived.

“Olivier, do you mind going somewhere else?” he asked faking a smile. “This is our last night together.” Arne traveled a lot and had been visiting Per for about a week or so.

“My bad, sure.” he said standing up. “It was very nice to see you again, dude.” Before turning around and leaving, he leaned towards them. “You know, there was a time when I thought I’d be standing next to Arne like you are right now,”

“Oh my god, Olivier, stop with the jokes, come on,” Per sighed annoyed.

“What? You never told him?” Olivier asked Arne, _of course he hadn’t._

“Come on, man.” Arne said covering his face.

“What is he talking about?” Per turned to his boyfriend, the thought that they had hooked up in the past was barely reaching Per’s mind.

“It’s no big deal, we were 16, locked away at an all-boys boarding school, it was meant to happen.” he said before walking away.

\----

The rest of the party had been really lame, Alexis got shit-faced, Santi made up with some handsome guy that he was speaking with since he arrived and Per left early.

The man was now sitting in front of him at court, he didn’t seem to have gotten a good night sleep during the whole week, and Olivier was there to make things slightly more intricate that they were. He leaned closer to Per.

“I hooked up with pretty much all the hot guys at boarding school, if that makes you feel better,” he whispered making Per stiffen at his seat. “Besides, I barely remember what his penis looks like,” he teased. “No, wait...I still do.”

He had to use his self control not to burst into laughter at the distressed face Per was sporting.

 

 


	4. Let's get to scooping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back.  
> A lot of things happened on this episode, I felt I was writing it entirely.  
> Also, I tried something different for the flashforward bit, let's see how it goes.

He was finishing his morning cup of coffee when there was a franctic knock on his door; Mesut moved away from the kitchen opening it carefully. Olivier was standing there, well, definitely not standing but bouncing up and down in a spandex shirt and expensive runner shoes; he was drenched in sweat and with a mischievous smile on his face that made Mesut’s heart skip a beat.

“Take off your clothes,” he said as a _hello._

“Did you run over here?” Mesut smiled quite surprised as he opened the door for the man to come up inside the apartment.

“Yeah. Now take off your clothes,” he said strutting inside the place he knew too well by now.

“I-I have to go to work…” Mesut mumbled closing the door and following him inside; he was already dressed up in his gray suit and his briefcase was on the table near the door. “And I-…I might be a little worried that you might be a sex addict." Olivier made an approving noise as he leaned against the wall. “There’s this book I read about this, _The Velvet Rage_ it’s reall-…”

“We’re young, red-blooded males,” Olivier announced closing the space between them and holding his gaze. “Let’s not turn sex into a bad thing…”, but before he could try to take off his grey jacket, Mesut pulled back abruptly, almost as if the man burned.

“I’m just saying, why don’t we do something normal for once that is not sex?” he mumbled seeing Olivier smile and walk around, the man couldn’t stand in one place, he could almost see the energy irradiating from his body. “Like have breakfast, or do crosswords…or whatever it is that actual couples…do.” He could pinpoint the exact moment he had fucked up his suggestion; at the mention of the word _couples_ , Olivier grinned in amusement. _Shit._

“Couples?” Olivier grinned. “What’s next? We change our relationship status on Facebook?” _Shit, shit, shit._ “I meet your mom?”

“That…that’s not what I meant,” He couldn’t even think of anything anymore, Olivier was closing the space between them once again; he couldn’t believe he had said that. “You…I-I-I…know that…that, we’re not like…” he took a deep breath without breaking their gaze. “You know what? I’ll just take off my clothes; we’ll have sex as long as you ignore what I just said.”

Olivier laughed.

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” He said as Mesut tried to move away to his room. “Watching you freak out is way more fun.”

“Stop…looking at me!” Mesut laughed as well, Olivier hadn’t stopped intimidating him with his stare since he appeared through the door.

\---

Olivier ran his way from the court door to the place where the session was happening, only slowing his pace the last couple steps to not make any noise, his hair was still wet and all over the place. He quickly sat down next to Santi who looked at him as if he didn’t belong there.

“What did I miss?” he whispered to him.

“Really, dude?” Alexis answered instead, everyone around were looking at him. “Isn’t your ass tired?” _God, he hated him so much._

“Who says it’s my ass?”

“Shhhh!” Santi shushed them so they could go back to the session in front of them.

But Olivier’s mind had stayed momentarily on Mesut’s apartment; he was right, it hadn’t been his ass, and they hadn’t done it once but twice, one in the shower before it was too late to arrive spectacularly late and with a smile on their faces to their respectable jobs.

\----

Their new case happened at a stock trade firm, an old client of Arsene’s from Spain who was accused of getting inside information and privileges before anyone else and buying an illegal trade. It seemed like a mild case before the DEA and FBI arrived at Mr. Guardiola’s office before them

“Your goons are looting this place like it’s a goddamn fire sell!” the man was standing over a chair, Pep Guardiola was dressed in fancy office clothes that clearly made him look like the boss. “And you have no right!” he said pointing sarcastically at an FBI agent.

“Mr. Guardiola, this warrant says otherwise.” The man in charge handed it to Pep.

“Oh, this warrant?” he asked unfolding it as the man nodded. The next second, the document was on fire, Guardiola was burning it from a corner with a lighter he had quickly pulled off his pants. Everyone in the office cheered.

“Are you kidding?” the officer exclaimed indignant.

“Enough, Pep!” Arsene shouted taking the document off his hands and putting it off. He turned to the officer. “Arsene Wenger, what’s the exact charge?”

“Your client purchased stock in Ibrahimovic Pharmaceuticals in advance of a favorable FDA ruling arising from insider knowledge.”

“Was any of that in english?” Alexis sarcastically asked to everyone near them. Olivier couldn’t believe his level of douchebagry could surpass itself.

“I still see no proof of my client’s connections to Ibrahimovic’s pharmaceuticals.” Arsene said examining the half burned warrant.

“Right, I almost forget that part.” The officer said with a smirk motioning for another officer to bring him something. A laptop was put over the desk in front of them. “You want proof? What about a little light-viewing?”

As the laptop was opened, there was a video of, clearly Mr. Guardiola and someone else half dressed in his office, a second later, Guardiola was pinned against his desk by another person, a tall man with tattoos under his suit and long hair, he was pulling off Guardiola’s pants and giving him a bruising kiss before turning him around and pressing himself flush against him; a long moan was heard over the speakers. The officer paused when the other man’s face was near the hidden camera.

“Now, Mr. Guardiola, do you have any idea who this man might be?” the officer asked. Guardiola rolled his eyes before answering.

“Zlatan Ibrahimovic…”

“Zlatan Ibrahimovic,” the officer repeated. “And that would be the CEO of Ibrahimovic Pharmaceuticals?” No one answered. “There’s your proof…” he said before pressing play again. The office was filled with moans and grunts as the entire office looked at the video with an amused smile. The only one who wasn’t smiling was Mr. Wenger.

\---

They were supposed to play spies and investigate the employers of the firm to see if the supposed hacking had come from the inside; that was the lead: Guardiola hadn’t bought the stock by himself, but his computer was hacked. It had been the most boring thing Olivier had done in a long while, not even making himself pass as someone else made him excited about it, they were all useless.

He had spent half his afternoon sweetly interrogating this fat guy who seemed too concentrated in his job to do anything else. He tried once again.

“You think everyone is as happy as you are to work for Guardiola?”

“We all make bank,” the man shrugged. “What’s to complain about?”

But before Olivier could thank him and move to the next target, they were interrupted by Guardiola’s assistant.

“Evan, Guardiola needs the dalzine numbers…” the man approached, he was young, mildly handsome and with impressive cheekbones. “Who is this?” he asked looking at Olivier.

“Olivier Giroud, I work for Arsene Wenger.” He said proudly while shaking hands and holding his gaze.

“Bartra. Marc, actually.” The man said with a perk of interest on him.

“You two need a room?” Evan, who had been forgotten behind them, asked.

_If everything went as expected, they might._

\---

Guardiola had gone mad at Arsene investigating his own people, and Arsene was mad because none of them had gotten anything out of anyone.

“The IT guy was inconclusive.”

“So, we’ve pissed out our client and have absolutely nothing to show for it.” He said severely. “You’ve all outdone yourselves."

“Actually, if it’s…if it’s okay, I’d like to look into a possible new lead.” Olivier asked, he had a plan in mind.

“Well, why are you standing there?!” Arsene exclaimed.

_Oh yeah, he might be needing that room now._

\---

Olivier sneaked into the copy room, it was late at night and he had seen Bartra enter a couple minutes back.

“He makes you work pretty late,” he pointed out with a charming smile.

“He compensates me well,” Bartra said with a smile as he grabbed the papers from the copies machine. “And, what else am I gonna do on a Wednesday night?”

“I can think of more _fun_ things.” Olivier teased seeing the man smile before turning around to look for some clips on a crowded table. “Be honest, he did it, right? He made the trade?” Olivier asked trying his luck.

“You clearly don’t know Guardiola,” Bartra mumbled.

“Does anyone know anyone?” he asked, he was talking bullshit now, people liked that kind of stuff. “I mean, really?”

“Wow, that was deep.” Bartra mocked him.

“You know what I mean…”

Bartra turned around, he seemed distressed by the whole situation.

“I’ve been his assistant for eight years,” he said leaning tiredly against the table. “There is no way he’d be stupid enough to make that trade.”

Maybe he had been wrong, maybe he had fallen into the cliché that the assistant was guilty of everything.

“Right, I’ll go.” He said before walking towards the door.

“And you?” Bartra asked. “What should you normally be doing on a Wednesday night? Or who, I mean?” he teased with a smile, Olivier smiled as well…he cleared up his schedule for Wednesday, but on Friday he had promised Mesut he’d come by and have dinner. “Is there a boyfriend I should be jealous of?” Bartra asked directly.

“I do…” he quickly answered; on the other side, the plan had come back to the tracks, the trophy was still on Lukas hands and he was in no position to come back to the House with nothing on him. “I do…what I want.” He smirked turning around and walking closer again.

A second after, Bartra unbuckled his belt pulling down his pants and staring back at him, the cheeky bastard was half hard already.

“I know.”

\---

Sex had been good, nothing spectacular and the guy didn’t seem to have much experience either, but phase one of the plan was already done.

“I had never done that before,” Bartra mumbled, his hair was spiked in every direction; Olivier smiled as he gathered his clothes.

“What? Sex in an office?” he asked.

“No, that other thing you did.” Bartra said looking at the floor. Olivier smiled.

Bartra’s cell phone started ringing.

“I’ll go now.” Olivier said grabbing his shoes.

“No…”

“Look, only a boyfriend would calling this late.” He stood up and moved around the other man to retrieve something from his bag; he discretely turned around to see him answering the phone. Olivier quickly slipped a recorder behind a box under the table next to them.

Then he exited the room. _Phase two was complete._

\---

“It’s not that complicated, really,” Mesut explained while working on his laptop; Olivier had come to his place for something different than sex; it had to do with his work, but still, he was interested in how to do something related to his job, and that was enough for him. He liked spending time with Olivier with their clothes on, it made him feel they had something real and normal. “You just download this app from the deep web and worm your way into the phone company mainframe using basic java code; anyone could learn how to do it.”

“I changed my mind,” Olivier said with a sleepy voice. “I-I just…I don’t care.”

“Hey, don’t be a bitch,” Mesut scolded him. “I could get arrested for this.”

“I would never let that happen.” Olivier said with a faint smile.

“Says the first-year law student who seems to spend more time breaking the law than practicing it.” He said waiting for the result to appear on his laptop. “How did you get this recording anyway?” It sounded like a young man in a really quiet office. “Were you like, hiding under his desk? Or you were under there for other purposes?” Olivier smiled at the comment.

“I would tell you, but then you’d be an accessory to my crime.”

There was a beep, the results were ready.

“Oh, voilà, the person who was in the phone with,” he announced checking the registry. “was using a phone line in Guardiola’s securities. And whoever it was…was smart enough to block the identifying number.”

“Dude…” Olivier seemed impressed.

“You love me and you want to have my babies.” Mesut joked. “I know.”

\---

_“Hey…it’s fine…they still think it’s him. I know, I actually just hooked up with one of the lawyer’s interns to make sure…what can I say? I’m fully committed to the cause…and he did this thing to my ass that made my eyes water.”_

Olivier had listened to the recording a thousand times before turning it in to Arsene’s and now was being heard by Guardiola and the rest of the interns at the house.

“Alright, turn it…turn it off.” Guardiola mumbled covering his eyes with his hands in a tired gesture.

“Based on the phone call, we know that Bartra was talking to someone inside your brokerage.” Thierry intervened explaining everything as Olivier stopped the recording.

“And as your assistant, he had access to your login code.” Olivier added. “He set you up.”

“He…he…he’s been with me since my office was a desk…in my apartment.” Guardiola said letting go some papers he was revising. “Okay, you can say it… _I told you so.”_

“The important thing is we know who’s responsible.” Arsene said calmly. “We just need him to make a statement…”

“Oh, I’ll get him to make a statement,” Guardiola said narrowing his eyes. He suddenly stood up walking outside his office; Arsene ran behind him followed by everyone else.

Bartra was checking some files on the library near the window-sided desks.

“You weak little bitch!” Guardiola shouted in front of the whole office.

“G…Guardiola?” Bartra seemed terrified.

“Why?” the older man asked still shouting as Bartra seemed confused. “Don’t play dumb, you set me up for this!”

Bartra’s gaze fell into Olivier.

“I’m loyal to my boss, no one else.” He said shrugging.

“Why, Bartra!?” Guardiola kept shouting.

“All I’ve done the past eight years is pay your bills, clean up after your dog, even buy you stuff from the grocery store.” Bartra cracked. “My whole life has been about you! Serving you! Like all I am some accessory, this thing to prop you up! This was my chance to be something!”

“I loved you like you were my son,” Guardiola said with a depictive tone. “And this is how you repay me?” Bartra’s eyes were scanning the floor now, clearly too ashamed to look anywhere else. “You could have ruined me, made me lose everything!”

The office was in complete silence by now.

“So, understand this…I will make sure that you are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law for this crime…” Guardiola kept going. “Oh, and that family of yours, those…those people that just rejected you all those years ago,” Bartra’s eyes watered at the mention of his family, Olivier felt a bit bad about it, he never thought of it. “…well, now they are finally gonna have a real reason to be ashamed of you, ‘cause you’re gonna be in jail with the other inmates…who are gonna love the hell out of your ass!” Guardiola shouted as he took out a shoe and threw it at him.

“Guardiola! Hey! Your people are watching!” Thierry intervened along with Arsene pulling him back and away from the young man.

Oliver saw him whimper as he looked through the window and away from everyone; then he quickly proceeded to open it up and sit on the border.

“Oh my god!” Olivier mumbled paralyzed by fear.

“I’m sorry…” the man said before letting himself fall.

“BARTRA!” Guardiola shouted opening his eyes a lot. Thierry tried to catch him, but it was too late, the man disappeared in front of them.

Screams could be heard everywhere, even at this height, the screeching noise of cars on the street could be heard loudly.

\---

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“I-I was in the neighborhood.”_

_“It’s 6am”_

_“Well, early bird gets the worm, right?”_

_“Are you on something?”_

_“No, I wish,”_

_“You smell. What is that? Smoke?”_

_“I screwed up, Mesut…I screwed up so bad…I screwed up…I scr-…I screwed up. I screwed up. I screwed…I screwed up…I sc-…screwed up.”_

\---

“It just shows that not everyone is born to have a high pressure job.” Olivier said looking for the couple beers he promised Mesut, they had spent a lot of time deciding who would get off the bed to go looking for them. “I mean, this guy got in over his head and cracked.” He opened the bottles. “Literally, his head on the sidewalk…I just-…”

 _“I know…I actually just hooked up with one of the lawyer interns to make sure.”_ He had left the recorded audio on his jacket in case they needed it for the trial. _Shit_. He walked towards the bedroom to see Mesut holding it as if he was listening to the radio. “ _What can I say? I’m fully committed to the cause_ … _and he did this thing to my ass that made my eyes water._ ” Mesut stopped the recording as he brushed his hand over his face.

“I kept thinking there was a reason that you were so pissed at him,” Mesut mumbled, he seemed about to crack. “I was right, he played you.” He said throwing the recorder next to him on the bed.

“Come on, it’s…not like we said we were exclusive.” Olivier mumbled trying to reason with him, but the second the words left his mouth, he knew he had fucked it up.

“Get out.” Mesut said firmly.

“Don’t do this…” he pleaded as Mesut stood up from the bed. “I like you, actually.”

“ _Actually?_ ”

“Look, Mesut, that guy, he was just sex…” he turned around as Mesut was gathering his things and putting them on Olivier’s hands. “But you’re more than sex...don’t make this a bigger deal than it is.”

“Get out.” Mesut said pushing him backwards towards the door.

“Mesut?”

“I said leave!” Mesut opened the door pushing him outside, closing it on his face and leaving him in underwear in the middle of the hallway.


End file.
